


Fractured

by Caladenia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Implied but non-graphic violence, Inspired by song, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secondary Traumatic Stress, Secondary traumatization, mention of slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladenia/pseuds/Caladenia
Summary: 'While in the depth of his heart, he finds that he can forget her anger and her hurtful words, he is not so sure if he can forgive himself for wanting to walk away at times.'There is a crack in the captain’s armour and everybody suffers as a consequence.Set towards the end of Season 4





	1. There is a crack

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Primary Emotion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/933917) by [amaradangeli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli). 



> This story was greatly enhanced by the conversations I had with BlackVelvet42, and the final beta work from CarlynRoth. They have my eternal thanks for helping me make this story a reality, and thinking the topic of secondary traumatization was worth addressing. 
> 
> Please note that this is a work of fiction. I have no personal knowledge of PTSD or secondary traumatization myself. Although I hope I have addressed the subject as respectfully as I could, all mistakes and misinterpretations are mine only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _There is a crack, a crack in everything_
> 
> _That's how the light gets in_
> 
> _That's how the light gets in_
> 
> _That's how the light gets in_
> 
> Leonard Cohen, Anthem

* * *

_**There is a crack** _

 

_Chakotay_

The wall outside sickbay is thankfully unyielding. Chakotay leans against it, his back seeking the strength of the hard cold metal. If he could allow himself to feel something, he would let himself slide against the vertical surface and collapse on the floor.

But he can’t. Not yet. Not here.

He stares at the palms of his hands, rubs them against his uniform trousers, once, twice, again, only to leave more dark and foul-smelling stains on the soft fabric. There’s dirt embedded deep under his fingernails, and russet-coloured flecks dotting the back of his hands, a pointillist drawing of despair and death. His stomach rises, and it takes all his will to swallow back the throat-burning contents. He so wants to cleanse himself inside and out, scour the dank, heavy stench off his skin. It won’t be enough to erase the bleakness and torment he saw, the brutality, the hopelessness. But it’ll be a start.

He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards the turbolift. He’s got to go back to the bridge and discuss the captain’s purchase price with the Ahmaric who know a good deal when they see one. As much as he loathes their cruelty and arrogance, and their flagrant disregard for the most basic rights of sentient beings, he can ill afford to get into a firefight with their government on moral grounds.

_Voyager_ ’s mission is done, its goal accomplished. After three long months searching for the captain, the crew had found her at last among a throng of people sharing her fate—working in the depths of a dilithium mine until they fell, beaten, starved, forgotten. Living skeletons chained to wagons; the stronger ones crawling into dim tunnels with a blunt pickaxe in their hands; others heaving the rocks into the carts. Those people have no name, no future, no succour. Their only identity is a number embedded on a chip lodged between their shoulder blades, their humanity stripped away the second they fell into the hands of the traders.

Chakotay swings hard and hits the turbolift wall, splitting the skin over his knuckles. If only he had rescued all the others too, freed them from a life of untold misery where death becomes the only escape. He tells himself that he could not take them all. That _Voyager_ is but one ship. That he can’t risk the lives of all on board for a desperate mass rescue doomed to fail.

The door opens. He wipes his hands a last time and steps on the bridge.

**###**

_Tom Paris_

~ _We must thank you for the conclusion of a successful trade, Master Chakotay. The Ahmaric government hopes we will see you back soon for another purchase, and_ —~

Chakotay turns away and makes a cut-throat gesture to Harry. The genial face of the Ahmaric representative vanishes from the screen.

“Set a course out of here, Paris.”

“Aye, Commander.”

Tom lets his fingers dance over the helm. He is glad to leave this area of space with too many star systems crammed together, suns with tens of inhabited planets, and planets orbiting too many stars in repudiation of the most fundamental laws of astrophysics in his expert opinion. He is eager to fly, not stumble any longer from one system to the other like an albatross with its wings clipped, searching for a missing captain.

She’d disappeared at the end of a trade deal on Ouyen, discussing much needed dilithium, food, maps, information. The usual stuff _Voyager_ is in so desperate need every few months.

Four days later, they’d tracked her down to a slave market on Prahran, only to miss her by a few hours. Tom thought Chakotay was going to order the planet to be razed to its bedrock. He was not going to argue after seeing the saleyards with their foul-mouthed bidders standing on walkways high above the pens full of people, dirty, exhausted and lost; the guards with neural whips, and the drone-like voices of the auctioneers selling the men, women and children as if they were cattle.

They’d done all they could, followed every lead, used every Starfleet tactic and quite a few others to track the captain down.

“Course set, Commander.”

“Warp eight. Engage.”

The bridge screen shows nothing more than streaks of light for the first time in months. _Voyager_ is back on course to the Alpha quadrant. Janeway is safe _._ Surely, that is all that counts.

And yet, he can’t help feeling guilty it took them so long to get her back.

**###**

_Tuvok_

“Commander Tuvok, the Captain’s medical files are confidential, and she has not agreed to the disclosure of her medical information. She is also the highest-ranked commanding officer on this ship. I therefore cannot discuss her condition with anybody but her.”

“Your wish to protect the Captain's privacy is praiseworthy, Doctor. However, it’s in the interest of this crew to ascertain if she is fit to resume her position. She has experienced extremely trying circumstances for quite a long period.”

“I can assure you that a couple more days of rest in her quarters will see the captain well on her way to a complete physical recovery. She has been most insistent to be back on the bridge as soon as possible.”

It is not the captain's physical well-being Tuvok is concerned about after watching the numbness that shrouds Janeway like a tight-fitting cloak since her return. The lack of annoyance in the Doctor’s voice, his usual tone when discussing the captain’s health, confirms Tuvok’s unease. As much as the EMH is only a hologram, the matrix he was created from is very much human, and humans have a surprising, if rarely used gift of revealing much by saying very little. That much Tuvok has learned working beside them for many decades.

“If you don’t mind, I have a couple of patients waiting,” the Doctor says after a few seconds where more has been exchanged between the two men than in the whole of the previous four years.

The captain is back in her command chair two days later. Tuvok’s disquiet grows as silence and stillness suffocate the bridge.

**###**

_Harry Kim_

Somebody has moved the captain’s Ready room desk closer to the door, and her back is to the wall now. Her hand clamps around the cup when he approaches. Coffee sloshes onto the table top, but Harry pretends he’s seen nothing.

He carefully places the PADD a few inches from the small brown puddle and takes a step back. She watches his movements with the same intensity and wariness as that cat with a broken leg he’d found in the alleyway behind the house one day when he was twelve or thirteen. The vet had said it’d been mauled by a dog most probably. He’d stated it was too traumatised to treat and the compassionate thing to do would be to put it down.

Harry hadn’t listened of course, and had brought the cat home, its bone reset. For days, it hid behind the couch, trembling, shaking, hardly eating anything, because even if the leg didn't hurt anymore, there are much deeper wounds she remembers. And when she looks at him, all he can see is fear.

The cat had escaped one morning, tearing through the opened front door. It vanished into the terrifying world outside, and Harry never saw it again.

He wants her to feel safe, to not shudder at sudden noises or jump at a loud voice coming from the bridge.

“Dismissed.” A week back in the command chair, and her voice still sounds like gravel falling over rocks.

“Yes, Ma'am. Sorry, Ma'am.”

As he leaves the ready room, he feels her eyes on him, eyes so big they were the only sign she was still alive when she returned to the ship.

He is not one of _them._ He is not a stranger. She shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But he does not know how to tell her that.

**###**

_Tuvok_

“What can I do for you, Tuvok?”

“The question is more how can I help you, Captain.”

“I am fine, thanks to you from what I’ve heard.”

“My part in your rescue was but small. A matter of logical inferences, that is all.”

Following leads from bribed officials, paying whatever was asked for in exchange for meagre information, tracking down rumours and transaction ledgers, they’d finally traced a woman fitting her description among a lot of three hundred slaves sold to an Ahmaric mine owner. All purchased very legally from the C’ltuth, the Ahmaric government had said. The C’ltuth had gotten their cargo as part of a packaged deal in exchange for some farming equipment from the Djuki Mala, who had acquired what seemed to have been a planet-worth of people from a fleet of Relac traders. How the captain had gone from Ouyen to Prahran to Relac, Tuvok has never found out.

“No hunch? No gut feeling?” she asks.

She does not smile. Her repartee is nothing more, he senses, than words pulled from her memory and strung together for his sole benefit. As if all human feelings behind those words, what impart meaning to them, have been deliberately discarded.

If she were Vulcan, he would think her well on her way to recovery.

“No, Captain.”

“So, what brings you here?”

Her hands flutter over PADDs and an empty coffee cup. She is already tired of his attention, of his unasked questions she has no intention of answering.

He wants to say, _You, my friend_ , but it is too early. Or too late. So, they talk about security rosters instead, and the silence remains.

**###**

_Chakotay_

Ever since she’s been back on duty, she’s gone straight to her quarters after pulling two shifts in a row. In his opinion, she’s killing herself.

“Please, come and have dinner with me. In the mess hall, if you prefer.” He thinks she’ll be less likely to bolt if she is around people.

She glances behind her as if to check her escape route, and it takes all his self-control not to reach out and hold her tight.

“Thank you, Chakotay, but I’ll eat in my quarters.”

He forgets about his vow not to pressure her, to let her be, to wait for her to ask for help even as he is sure she will not. Without thinking, he takes two steps forward, looming over her. “Kathryn, don’t…”

_Isolate yourself. Ignore what has happened. Shut me off._

Her face turns paler than he thinks is possible, and she blinks, eyes fixed on him. This close to her, it does not take him long to realise she is petrified, holding her breath and frozen to the spot until he retreats slowly, his hands opened.

“I am sorry, Kathryn. I am so sorry.”

She’s shaking so much, it takes her two tries punching her access code—a new one he’s noticed—before the door to her quarters opens and she disappears inside.

Chakotay stands in the corridor long after her door has swished closed. Then he turns back and goes to the holodeck.

**###**

_Tom Paris_

He remembers his mother looking at his dad the same way the crew look at Janeway.

At the time he’d been just a kid. Pretty clueless in any case, but even then, Tom knew something bad had happened to his father after his last stint as captain of the _Al Batani_ heading the Arias expedition. Something big. Something that would colour their relationship for years to come. Not that the breakdown between the two of them was entirely his father’s fault. Far from it. Well, not entirely anyway.

But it’s the same expression, and with the benefits of a decade of personal disasters, Tom knows how it feels to be at the receiving end of the sad looks that follow the captain, the conversations coming to an abrupt end when she enters a room. Pity is not a sentiment he likes to see in others’ eyes.

**###**

_Neelix_

He stirs a large bubbling pan, large red drops splashing over the rim, and tosses in more chillies.

They’d made more first contacts over the twelve weeks the captain went missing than in the previous twelve months, and the ship’s food stores are stacked. Not that _Voyager_ had found much to trade for. The main economy in the entire sector they’ve left is based on indentured workforce and slavery. Settlements are raided, people snatched, traded, bartered, bought and moved around at the speed of light. Those who resist, those who refuse to accept their lot, learn fast.

The pan flares, and he jumps back, the flames singeing the low ceiling.

He didn’t know. He is just a rough-around-the-edges trader who should have tried harder to confirm the vague warnings he’d heard years ago about the Ouyen sector. He’s been wrong before, his knowledge based more on hearsay than personal experience the further _Voyager_ hurtles away from his old trading routes. Soon, he’ll have nothing more to rely on than folktales and myths. As a trader, he used to make a good living based on such information. But this ship needs more, and its captain has always given _Voyager_ what it needs, even if it almost cost her her life.

_What has this ship ever done for her in return?_ he asks himself, wiping his face. He keeps her coffee pot full at all times, and that’s about it.

He can't think what else he can do for her and he is panicking.


	2. A crack in everything

* * *

_**A crack in everything** _

_Chakotay_

He is not sure why he is not angrier. She says, she repeats, that they should not have come back for her. That he should have led the ship back on its course for home.

He realises that so far in their conversation, which has turned into a monologue because he can’t fit a reply sideways, Kathryn has not really looked at him. She’s glanced at the walls, stared at her feet, looked behind him, around him. Through him. But not really ‘at’ him. At least she is talking to him, even if that has taken more than three weeks and several attempts from his part. He sits very still, making no sudden movements.

“For once, Chakotay, you could have obeyed an order,” she throws at him, pacing the ready room.

She is referring to the do-not-rescue-me directive she’s left on the ship’s computer to be activated if she went missing for more than a week. One of those protocols she’s rather fond of. Too fond in his opinion. He had had no compunction in ignoring it when they couldn’t find her after the seven days had well and truly elapsed.

There is something so very wrong if Kathryn believes he would have stopped looking for her. He would have stolen a shuttle and searched to the end of the universe for her. Become a slave himself if needed.

He does not understand how she does not know that.

**_###_ **

_Seven_

“I would like us to resume our weekly game of velocity, Captain. I have booked the holodeck for tonight, seventeen hundred hours.”

“You should have confirmed with me first, Seven. Find somebody else to play with.”

She is standing right in front of the captain's desk and Janeway has not lifted her eyes. Avoidance. Typical symptom according to her research.

“You misunderstand me, Captain. Physical exercise is highly recommended in your condition.”

“In my condition?” Janeway' voice drops, and a small blood vessel on her temple bulges and throbs. Classic indicators of anger, although Seven is not sure what she has said that could trigger such a reaction from the captain.

“It has been more than a month since you’ve come back, and you are obviously still suffering from the sequels of your experience. Physical activity has been proven to speed up recovery from post-traumatic stress, and—"

“Get out.”

“Half an hour should suffice to begin with, as I assume your fitness isn’t quite up to—"

“GET OUT!”

Seven spins neatly on her heels. She is thankful she will most certainly never suffer from PTSD.

_**###** _

_B’Elanna Torres_

“B’Elanna!”

Heavy footfalls sound behind her.

“Please, B’Elanna.” A hand lands on her arm, and she jerks away.

“I’ll transfer more staff to Engineering,” Chakotay says.

“How?” She turns around with murder in her eyes.

“I’ll shuffle the shifts. Get Neelix down with his toothbrush if I’ve got to.”

She can’t help a small smile. As much as she needs all hands on deck for yet another shut down drill ordered by the Captain, Neelix is more useful in the kitchen, keeping the crew’s morale up almost entirely by himself.

“It's been hell on this ship ever since she’s returned,” she says. She bits her lower lip at the slip.

There is a hitch in Chakotay's breathing, and his body fills the corridor, leaving her with no way to go.

She cringes. “Sorry. Not what you want to hear.”

“If she wants another engine diagnostic test, that’s for her to decide.”

“It’s the fourth one in two weeks, Chakotay. It never ends.”

“Then you’ll do another one until she’s satisfied. She is the captain. She gives the orders.”

B’Elanna lets it rip. “And that’s the problem! That’s all she does now.”

**_###_ **

_Seven_

After further research, it seems to Seven that her previous assessment she would be unlikely to suffer from the same affliction as the captain might have been premature.

She tries to engage in a rational conversation, drawing parallels between the captain’s condition, although she is careful not to use that word, and her own experience. However, for all her earlier talks on the benefits of learning about humanity and emotions, Janeway is singularly unwilling to listen to Seven’s difficulties in shedding the weight of what she has suffered.

There seems to be a rule that only applies to a former Borg drone, Seven concludes, and a totally different one for the captain. When she says as much, the conversation once again ends abruptly.

Seven is uncertain as to why she expected more from Janeway.

**_###_ **

_Harry Kim_

He watches the captain all the time and finds himself waiting for the next noise to startle her, holding his breath as she does, continually scanning the corridors and rooms for new triggers that will alarm her.

Harry knows it is not her fault, but he hates that feeling on continually being on edge around her.

He avoids being in the same room as her as much as he can now.

_**###** _

_Chakotay_

He cleans up the mess in the bathroom, then checks on Kathryn. She is thankfully asleep after another evening spent blaming herself this time.

Chakotay suspects it’s not the first time she’s been through deep trauma, but there’s no way for him to check. It hardly matters anyway. She refuses to talk about what has happened to her, so he’s got to deal with whom she has become now. Bitter and angry at herself tonight. He’s learned the hard way how unpredictable her moods can be.

_I didn't see it coming. I didn't see the signs. I walked straight into a trap!_

_This is not about anything you did or didn't do. You got caught up in a slave raid on Ouyen. How was it your fault?_

_How was it not? Ultimately, there’s nobody else’s to blame than me, Chakotay._

He makes sure the lights are on before leaving so she doesn’t wake up in darkness. She hates dark and dim places. He can only imagine why after what he saw on Ahmaric.

Once in his quarters, he orders a drink from the replicator and collapses on the couch. He’s got no idea if he is doing the right thing by constantly shadowing her. After being released from sickbay, Kathryn had not even let him past her door. Then she had only allowed him inside long enough for a cup of tea. She had given up after their second dinner together. If one can call sipping on a bowl of soup while sitting in front of the computer screen dinner, while he waited futilely for her to join him at the table. Now she doesn’t care if he is around, although she still gives him a wide berth, seemingly always aware of where he is. She ignores him and goes through her night ritual which consists of taking a tranquiliser hypospray and stumbling in her bed for a few hours. The Kathryn he’s fallen in love with, slowly, gently, over the past four years, is disappearing in front of him. He is losing her again.

The harsh liquor scours his throat. Staying awake makes it easier for him to rush to her quarters after yet another nightmare. He has slept right through a couple, only waking up when she screamed like an anguished animal. He is exhausted, worn out from holding the crew together during the day while looking after her at night the best he can. Talking to somebody the way he used to over a meal or a drink takes too much of his energy and time. His world revolves around Kathryn now.

Twirling the glass in his hand, he once again considers if he should force her to stand down from the captaincy. She is barely functioning as she is, but he can’t do that to her. It would kill her as surely as whatever she went through almost did, and then he would lose her for good.

Despite his best intentions, he falls asleep on the couch.

**_###_ **

_Tuvok_

“Focus on the flame, Captain. It’s alive. Fragile and yet powerful. Easily extinguished but capable of engulfing entire worlds. It gives us light in the darkest of nights, hope when all seems los—”

The flame sways, and a few seconds later the door of his quarters closes.

Tuvok finds it difficult to concentrate again. He un-steeples his fingers and blows the candle out.

_**###** _

_Chakotay_

“You left me behind.”

Chakotay sighs. Three weeks ago, she was adamant that the ship should have continued on its merry journey back home without her.

“We looked for you everywhere,” he says, keeping his voice even. Once she gets better, he is going to ask her to rescind that order—hopefully before there is a next time.

If she gets better.

“You abandoned me,” she spits out.

Her tone has moved on to anger and disgust in equal measures. It is not an improvement in his opinion. He is never quite sure what curved ball she is going to throw at him at any one time. The insinuation that her crew could have entertained the thought of leaving her behind hurts about as much as her begging to sacrifice herself.

“We didn’t. We brought you back.” He is trying to coax her back to the truth. He’s recounted the details of their search often enough.

“I am not talking about the crew, Chakotay.”

An ache pounds loudly in his chest. He desperately thinks of something to say, but the words evade his grasp as he looks at her even as she still does not look at him. With the bright lights falling on her, he traces the thin lips and the sharp cheekbones against the night behind the window. She’s become so hard, he fears she will shatter if he confronts her about how she makes him feel. Sad, lonely, bruised.

So, he does not respond and lets her accusation stand.

While in the depth of his heart, he finds that he can forget her anger and her hurtful words, he is not so sure if he can forgive himself for wanting to walk away at times.

**_###_ **

_B’Elanna Torres_

“I…I don’t have a clue, B’Elanna. I can’t make any sense of it. Do what you usually do.”

The captain stares at the main Engineering console like it has sprouted tentacles. She’s been standing there for a good five minutes.

“You are the one who wanted to get the overhaul done ahead of schedule, remember?” B’Elanna hisses close to Janeway’s face.

The captain takes an unsteady step backwards until her shoulders bump against the wall.

“And before that, it was the deflector dish realignment, and the warp core testing. I admit we let a few things slip while we were looking for you, Captain, but all repairs have been checked, double-checked and triple-checked. _Voyager_ is in perfect working order, as good as it was before you went missing. It’s not the ship that’s the probl—”

B'Elanna feels her cheeks redden and she closes her eyes, wondering if there is a black hole nearby she could disappear in right now. When she opens them again, Janeway is gone.

Carey looks at her with a frown to rival a storm on Q'onoS.

“What are you staring at?” she barks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The conversation recalled by Chakotay in mid-chapter is adapted from an episode of the TV series _Shetland_ (e5s3 – 2016).


	3. That's how the light gets in

* * *

**That's how the light gets in**

_Tom Paris_

The captain’s voice holds no emotion. Her tone is restrained and sounds like she’s reading one of Seven’s Astrometrics report. “It has come to my attention that my behaviour over the past two months has been less than fitting for a Starfleet officer and a captain. I have no excuses to offer, and I would like to apologise to every one of you.”

Janeway continues in a monotonous voice which is so unlike her. It’s like listening to nails scraping on a bulkhead. Tom focuses on the other people in the Briefing room in an attempt to block her off.

Chakotay is staring at his hands pressed into fists, the knuckles white. He’s got shadows under his eyes and his uniform hangs on his shoulders. However he thinks he is helping the captain, it’s obviously not working for either of them.

Seven lifts the corner of her mouth in disapproval, but she has the presence of mind not to make any smart comment about the superiority of the Borg over slave traders. Although it might be a consolation not to realise you’ve become a slave for the rest of your life once you’ve been assimilated into the Borg collective. Tom does not care much for either.

Neelix is fidgeting on his chair, but he too keeps silent.

Tom puts his hand on B’Elanna’s arm. She is sitting very still, and he is worried. He had been expecting her to interrupt the captain, get angry at her. She’s complained to him often enough about the ever-increasing workload, but instead she’s got her eyes fixed in front of her.

It’s just the captain’s voice in the room, going on and on, raspy, dead. “I do appreciate your dedication at keeping the ship going during the time I was…away.”

Hand over his mouth, Harry runs outside.

Janeway lifts her head at his departure and blinks. Tom has seen the same blank stare in his father's eyes at odd times, the same darkness that consumed him well after he’d returned home from the Arias expedition.

Except for Chakotay, or so Tom hopes, he is probably the only one in the room who really gets what it is costing Janeway to even acknowledge she’s experienced something that has stopped her in her tracks. Something she hasn’t overcome yet. That, for her, there is now a time ‘before’ what happened, a time when she was the intrepid Starfleet officer, the confident captain, the compassionate woman caring for her crew. Then a chasm too dark to contemplate, a break too wide to breach. Tom does not know what she is feeling about herself ‘after’, but it can’t be good.

“You have all gone beyond the call of duty to keep searching for me when my orders were to…” Janeway’s voice falters and she gives Chakotay a brief but heart-breaking look the big guy completely misses, concentrating as he is on the table in front of him.

Nobody moves while they wait for her to recover her composure.

“You can be assured that nothing has made me waver from my duty to get this ship and crew back to the Alpha quadrant.”

Tom flinches. Where everybody else sees a victim, Janeway and his dad hold on tight to the self-imposed expectation that they should have coped better because that’s what they have been trained to do. No cracks, no weaknesses. No chinks in the armour.

No way in for anybody to help.

Kim returns to his seat, mumbling an apology.

“From now on, I will work harder to regain your trust and respect. We've already spent too much time...”

She’s got that blank stare again, and after a moment everybody leaves in silence.

**###**

_Chakotay_

It’s twenty-three hundred hours, and the captain draws to a close one of those night drills she’s become addicted to lately, to the relief of all on the bridge. One after the other, the crew walk off, rolling necks and tight shoulders filing out past Chakotay. They’ve been on duty for fifteen hours straight, ever since the beginning of the Alpha shift, and they are beat.

Chakotay accompanies Janeway to her quarters as he always does so she is not alone in the dim corridors. She barely acknowledges his presence and does not let him in. Given the tenor of her speech in the morning, he had been expecting she would further isolate herself, but he is too exhausted to argue.

Finding himself facing the door of his own quarters, he feels adrift, not knowing what to do with himself. He should really be catching up on some rest in anticipation of another day watching Kathryn disintegrate in front of him. He is too tired to fight another opponent from his holodeck boxing program. Too restless to just stay in his quarters and wait for Kathryn to go to sleep and awake screaming. Instead, he takes the turbolift and alights at the mess hall.

Spotting a table near a window, he drops in a chair, his back to the rest of the room. Neelix is still up despite the late hour, and brings him a drink.

“Commander, it is good to see you here. Is the captain going to join you?” he asks, his face ever so hopeful.

Wondering if Neelix realises Janeway is well beyond his reach, Chakotay shakes his head. The price he is willing to pay to let her out of the prison she’s made her own, his determination to be there for her, to help her, his care of her, his love—none of it is enough anymore.

“No, sorry, she said she was tired,” is all he allows himself to tell the eager man.

“I understand. She does need her rest,” Neelix says, before leaving to welcome Tom and Harry who’ve just entered the room.

Chakotay tries his hardest to look busy contemplating his glass, but Tom plunks himself at the table without asking, Harry hovering beside him.

“Tom, Harry. Please take a seat,” Chakotay says with only the faintest of sarcasm in his voice.

Harry’s eyes are darting about. “The Captain is not here?” He sits down with a sigh of relief when Chakotay repeats his little lie.

“B’Elanna should be coming soon,” Tom says as Neelix brings a tray of drinks. “She wanted to talk to Seven about something the captain wants to check on tomorrow.”

Neelix beams. “It has been weeks since we were all here together. In fact, I think it was before…” His smile disappears, and he turns back to the galley without finishing his sentence.

Chakotay remembers well the occasion. A birthday party Neelix had thrown for one of the crew members, with Kathryn bringing the birthday cake and singing the traditional birthday tune in her slightly off-key voice, her arm threaded through his. It had been the last time he had seen her laughing before everything went to hell.

Neelix brings another lot of steaming cups when B’Elanna and Seven appear. Tom waves at them, and Chakotay shuffles to make more room as the small table quickly becomes crowded. Seven remains standing behind Harry who has got to crane his neck to talk to her.

“How was your regeneration, Seven?”

“Adequate, Ensign Kim. Maybe you should try it. You look fatigued.”

“We all are,” Kim answers with another sigh. “And listening to the captain this morning did not really help.”

A wave of nodding heads circles the table. Kim’s admission holds no great surprise for Chakotay. If Kathryn thought her words and undertaking to become ever more the captain than she’s been over the past eight weeks was meant to reassure her senior officers, she is sadly mistaken. Chakotay strongly suspects that she was very much trying to convince herself, hanging on to duty with all her remaining strength in a last-ditch effort to keep all the broken pieces of her wounded mind together.

Banging her raktajino on the table, B’Elanna goes straight for the jugular. “Does anybody really think the captain will ever get better? My team never knows what to expect when she comes to Engineering. It’s like they are treading on eggshells, and nothing gets done as long as she’s around.”

Kim winces as the brown puddle from B’Elanna’s cup spreads on the table. He grabs a towel and quickly cleans it.

“It is regrettable that the captain’s conduct remains an ongoing concern,” Tuvok says, rising from two tables down. Chakotay had not even known he was there too. “The crew is showing signs of strain. I am not immune to it myself,” the tall man adds, looking faintly disgusted at himself.

Chakotay wonders what has prompted the Vulcan’s sudden heart-opening. Not that he disagrees. Sometimes, he wishes he could talk to somebody about what the captain has told him the rare times she let something slip. She’s not the only one to have nightmares.

Neelix brings a chair from nearby and spins it around before sitting, his elbows leaning on the back of it. “I agree with you, Mister Vulcan. I’ve never seen so many gloomy people. Morale is worse than when the captain was missing. Then the whole ship was buzzing with the one goal to see her back safe and sound, but her return has not been the joyous occasion I had hoped for.”

“Can hardly blame her for the crew’s feelings though.” Tom gulps down his drink as if wanting to believe he had real whiskey in his hand. Chakotay empathises with the young man’s need for something stronger than synthehol.

Tuvok lifts an eyebrow. “Apportioning blame was far from my mind, Lt Paris. I only wish to know how I could assist her in a better capacity. My attempt at helping her meditate did not end well.”

“I don’t even know what happened to her. How can I help her if she does not say anything,” B’Elanna grumbles.

Chakotay shrugs, his hands cradling a drink he has not touched yet. If there is one thing he can guarantee is that Kathryn will never talk about what she went through. “I don’t seem able to get through her either. If we had a trained counsellor, she wouldn’t have a choice but see them. Here, she can see no alternative than get over her trauma all by herself.”

He is not ashamed to let them know that his own efforts have been in vain. They are a good crew, good friends. They deserve the truth.

“Gee, that’s sad.” Harry can’t stop a yawn, and everybody has a quick smile.

Neelix is back behind the counter, brewing a full pot of coffee. Chakotay wonders why he still bothers. They are each doing small things for the captain, pulling at her this way, that way, the only way they can; Neelix with his coffee; B’Elanna standing up to her; Tuvok. Even Seven has tried, he’s heard.

“But she is not alone,” Neelix says, closing the lid on the thermos flask. “I mean, we all want to help her, don't we?”

Seven raises a doubtful eyebrow. “Are you proposing a collective approach?”

“I am all for it if it helps avoid getting my head chewed off,” B'Elanna says.

“I have an idea we could try,” Tom brings to the table. “But we need a plan.”

Neelix rubs his hands with his inimitable enthusiasm. “Commander, what do you say?”

**###**

_Tom Paris_

It’s well past the end of his shift, a normal one this time, but Tom remains at the helm, waving away his replacement for the beta shift. The captain spends most of her awake hours on the bridge or in the ready room. She needs to see familiar faces around her, not another set of questioning eyes walking in and out every eight hours. So, Tom stays. Harry follows his example at the ops console, and Tuvok at tactical.

When the captain falls asleep on the bridge, her head on Chakotay’s shoulders, Tom thanks his mom for showing him all those years ago that caring can be as simple as just being there.

**###**

_Seven_

“Commander, you wanted to see me.”

Chakotay smiles at her, while she stands, her hands neatly held behind her back. “Yes, Seven. How did you go?”

“As you anticipated, the captain saw the benefit in improving her fitness when the Doctor announced he would have no recourse than put her on light duties if she did not pass her physical. Following your suggestion, I again offered to play a game of velocity with her. She accepted this time.”

“And?”

Chakotay and the Doctor had discussed bringing forward the crew’s annual medical exams in an effort to get Janeway out of her quarters and into some much needed exercise. Seven does not feel comfortable with the deception.

“I won all three matches.” The captain was slow, uncoordinated and distracted. It was hardly a fair contest. If it had been any other crew member, Seven would classify Janeway’s performance as pathetic. “I am not willing to continue submitting myself to such an upsetting experience any longer. Showing the captain compassion is obviously not working.”

She raises an eyebrow as Chakotay suffers from a small cough. He needlessly taps his chest to recover. “I would really like you to persist.”

“Is that an order, Commander?”

“No, Seven. It’s not. As I explained during our discussion in the mess hall, nobody is under any compulsion to help the captain. I am only asking those who regard themselves as her close friends.”

Seven softens her stance. “I see. I will comply then.”

“It’s not a matter of…” His hand massages his temple. “Never mind. Tell me how you go next time.”

Seven exits the Commander’s office, still feeling perplexed. The senior officers are voluntarily putting themselves at the risk of great emotional distress to care for one individual. It is a typically inefficient human trait she does not fully grasp. She will try to entice the captain in another game of velocity, though. For _Voyager_ collective’s sake, she tells herself before striding confidently towards the turbolift.

**###**

_B’Elanna Torres_

“Take a deep breath. Yes, like that. Now hold it. Good. Let it out slowly. That’s it. And again.”

She shouldn’t have asked the captain to help with the routine recalibration of an EPS relay. But how could she have foreseen something would go wrong? It’s only a Jefferies tube. At least, she now can deal with the captain’s panic, thanks to the sessions Chakotay has organised to help the senior officers recognise an anxiety attack.

“It’s okay. See, we are on Deck twelve. Two more decks and we’ll be in Engineering. We’ll do this together, you and me.”

B’Elanna grabs Janeway’s sweaty hand. She is surprised the captain does not pull away but instead crushes her fingers with all the strength of a drowning man. What the confined and dim space has triggered in Janeway’s mind, B’Elanna does not know. She does not really want to know. All she needs to do is hold Janeway’s hand. She can do that.

Nobody stares at them when they exit the conduit still holding hands. B’Elanna is so proud of her team, she could kiss them.

Janeway squeezes her fingers lightly this time, her way to say thank you, before letting go.

B’Elanna feels rather pleased with herself. She’ll talk about what happened with Chakotay and Tom tonight. It helps them all to talk.

**###**

_Chakotay_

“Chakotay?” She’s sitting at her desk, one foot tucked under her, looking more relaxed than he has seen her for weeks.

He closes the book over his finger.

“What’s that?” she asks, pointing at the tome he is holding.

“One of your poem anthologies. I started reading it while you were away.”

He sits up, waiting for the implication of his words to sink in. The quiet evening feels suddenly fragile.

He can’t tell her about the first time he went to her quarters after she’d gone missing. He’d put the empty coffee cup through the recycler; folded her night gown and placed it in the drawer of her dresser so it would not gather dust. Back in the lounge room, he had taken a book off the shelves and turned the pages at random until it had dropped from his fingers as he fell asleep on the couch.

She is not ready yet to hear how he kept coming back every few days, refusing to think of a time when he would have to put her possessions into storage and declare her missing in action, presumed dead. As long as he was keeping the place tidy, breathing in the scent that permeates her quarters, reading on the couch until the early hours of the morning, as long as he was _there_ , he could hold on to the hope she was coming back to him.

“I realised yesterday that somebody must have been watering the plants during that time,” she says with a thoughtful nod, before turning her attention back to the PADD in her hand.

He breathes out and smiles back even though she is no longer looking at him.

**###**

_Tuvok_

“Captain?”

“I was wondering if you could spare me one of your meditation candles.”

“Of course.”

Tuvok picks up the same candle he had lit with her. For some illogical reason, he has not put it away since she abandoned their only session together.

“I find it easier to light one which has already been used,” he says in lieu of an explanation.

Her lips twitch in a brief smile which he finds soothing. “Thank you, I will remember that.” She walks out of his quarters, holding the candle as if it is a precious gift.

Watching her leave, Tuvok is reminded of a Kintsugi bowl he had seen decades before in the house of the Terran ambassador to Vulcan. The jagged cracks of the broken grey earthenware had been boldly repaired with gold, creating a stunning piece of Earth craftmanship which had appealed to his soul.

For the first time in weeks, Tuvok’s mind is as clear as a cloudless sky over his home.

**###**

_Chakotay_

Chakotay thanks the stars that _Voyager_ is going through a quiet patch. Neelix, Seven and Harry have worked hard to find a route which goes through the least number of inhabited systems over the next month. The captain has resumed a less hectic schedule on the bridge, but she is not yet handling everything to her usual scrutiny and has not commented on the ship’s less than direct path to the Alpha quadrant.

As a result, the alien encounters over the past week have been few, but every time he can feel her shoulders and neck tense as she greets the offers of trade. It does not matter that he can't see what she sees when the faces of the aliens come onto the screen. That he does not know what they remind her of. He stands close to her until Harry shuts the sub-space comms channel, and she disappears in her ready room.

Chakotay waits a few minutes, then rings the chime and enters to see Kathryn near the window, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands. He walks to the replicator and orders a cup of green tea, leaving her the time and space she needs to compose herself.

She turns to face him. He has learned not to prejudge her mood, but it is such a big step that she can now look at him without her gaze sliding off to the door.

“Thank you," she says.

She is not talking about what has happened on the bridge just now. He shows his understanding by directing a full dimply smile at her, and her lips curl up before she dips her eyes. He would die to see again one of her beaming smiles that compete with the stars outside. In the meantime, he’ll take the promise of one and keeps it close to his heart.

She is no longer lost, nor alone. _Voyager_ ’s crew is there behind her, and the path to healing is as much about them as it is about her. It will take time. There will be good days and hellish ones. There is no cure, he knows as much, but he is a patient man. A hopeful one too.

They stand side by side watching the streaks of stars bathing the ship. He can feel the shards underneath her skin, hear the broken pieces scraping against each other every time she moves. But like the smile which lingers on her face as she leans ever so lightly against him, he can see the light between the cracks.

**###**

_Harry Kim_

The captain’s hand rests on his shoulder as she bends over the console. His chest tightens, and tears come to his eyes. He is an Ensign and yet he finds himself close to bawling like a first-year cadet.

If she senses anything’s wrong with him, she does not show it.

“Good job, Harry,” and she’s back in the command chair, ordering a course correction to study the spatial anomaly that lies half a light year away.

He sends the coordinates to Tom, and _Voyager_ surges ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept my most sincere appreciation for all the reviews and kudos. The topic of this story was not an easy subject to research but your comments confirmed to me it was a worthwhile addition to the fandom.


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